


Late Night Conversations

by FlameFox345



Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All characters other than Bucky and Tony are just mentioned, Cheek Kisses, Fictober 2019, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Slash, Snowmen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-16 15:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameFox345/pseuds/FlameFox345
Summary: Fic written for the first prompt of 2019 Fictober!October 1st - “It will be fun, I promise.”Ever since Bucky moved into the Compound, he’s felt isolated by the people he supposed to be a team with. Finally, he manages to find someone.





	Late Night Conversations

After the whirlwind of exhaustion, memory loss, and terror that followed Bucky’s initial escape from HYDRA and then Steve himself, he eventually found himself huddled down and coddled by the very people he was originally trying to avoid. It was a confusing situation, especially considering the fact that only weeks ago, some of those that now smiled at Bucky as if he were a regular person rather than a weapon were hunting him down without mercy. So once again, the entire circumstance gave him a weird sort of mental whiplash. Combined with the knowledge that he was no longer entirely Bucky but not entirely the Winter Solider either, he was stuck in a never ending swirl of both awe and fear of the new people, places, and feelings around him.

No matter how much Bucky tried, he could no longer feel that pull towards Steve that was supposedly still present in his subconscious. And no matter how much Steve persisted, he still wasn’t comfortable letting his guard down around the man when he had lived half of his life, admittedly stretched out a few dozen years, surrounded by distrust, hatred, and the threat of death. 

His conversations with Natasha, Natalia, whatever her name was now, we’re still stunted; eerie memories that weren’t quite fuzzy enough to be forgotten but not quite clear enough to be comprehended poisoned his view of the woman, and she seemed to have no intention of trying to mend something Bucky wasn’t sure he had even broken. 

Sam gravitated towards the quips falling from Bucky’s lips like a younger sibling would. Bucky wouldn’t necessarily say they were friends—sass and dry insults with no fire behind them didn’t really mean they were friends—but he was certainly closer to Sam than he was to Natasha.

The other woman on the team, Wanda, was a whole different ball game in terms of tension and broken relationships. Bucky didn’t hate her, he really couldn’t, not when he somewhat empathized with her plights (even though she did originally volunteer for HYDRA) and almost could see her a sister if they ever managed to burn the ugly bridges between them and build something new. Wanda was a force that Bucky had no desire to reckon with, and for now, both he and Wanda seemed content to ignore each other at every turn and pray away the inevitable breakdown when they came head to head.

Clint, much like Natasha, was a weird one to pin down. One moment he greeted Bucky like an old friend, the next moment, they were sworn enemies. In on of the minuscule pleasant conversations Bucky had endured with the archer, they had spoken about the feeling of losing one’s self to another’s mental motivation. The talk ended in tears and a newfound connection with one another; however, around the others, Clint seemed to retreat back into his shell before anyone could try to talk him out.

Bucky had very little conversations with the younger Avengers such as the firecracker of a boy named Harley and the golden retriever in a human form named Peter, but they always managed to greet him with smiles and smirks, showing him the latest memes (Bucky’s not entirely sure if that’s what they’re called), and showing off their skills to him at every chance they got. Bucky often wondered if they were trying to impress or intimidate him.

The others that roamed around the Compound didn’t necessarily avoid Bucky, but they certainly kept their distance. He didn’t blame them. With the amount of blood on his hands and the ever imposing threat of HYDRA coming back for their guard dog, Bucky wasn’t exactly the best person to get close with. Really, he didn’t blame them. It was just slightly saddening to know that no one would really give him a chance.

However, there was one man in the Avengers Initiative that had thrown Bucky for a loop. Tony Stark, the brain behind the Compound and it’s tech, the future personified, and the sin of two innocent people that Bucky had murdered without a second thought. Bucky almost wanted Stark to threaten him, to fight him, to beat him to a pulp in the confines of the workshop that Bucky was exempt from. Lord knows he deserved it. But, Stark wasn’t like that. Stark was the type of man to take forgiveness seriously, to pick up the stray he found in the back alley and nurse it back to health. And Bucky was nothing if not a stray.

Stark was slow to befriend and even slower to trust.

Each moment Bucky spent desperately trying to insert himself in Stark’s life, he found himself face to face with mask after mask, a different personality and quip each day. Stilted conversations when they passed each other in the morning turned into quiet talks held in the workshop late at night when neither of them wished to face the nightmares beyond consciousness. It wasn’t a textbook friendship by any means, but it meant everything to Bucky. In a place where each person he knew either wanted him to be someone else, despised him, or was in awe of him, it was refreshing to find a person that only wished to be his friend.

As time went one, Stark became Tony, and late night whispers became the best moments of Bucky’s life in the Compound. Never mind the fact that Steve was still searching for that man he knew in the 40s, that Natasha could only see the Red Room in his eyes, that Wanda tensed whenever he entered a room, that Clint was a different person every day, or that people still hated away from his gaze—those quiet conversations were his and no one could take that away from him.

Bucky couldn’t remember when Tony became ‘doll’ and those whispered words they shared became forbidden fantasies that had him shaking awake every night.

“Bucky, Barnes, James, Frosty, Tastee-Freeze, Snowflake, please?” Tony had asked for the nineteenth time in an hour. He was masterfully using those doe eyes of his to pout at Bucky from across the room, lips down turned and chin resting on his hands. For a moment, Bucky was frozen, staring at Tony’s lips for what seemed like forever before snapping his gaze away.

Bucky sighed, burying his nose back in his book before the other could notice the blush creeping up his cheeks and ears, “Tony, doll, I already told you, it’s freezin’ out. I am not makin’ any snowmen when it’s 20 something degrees out.” Bucky finally murmured, but he knew that the words packed absolutely no heat whatsoever. By the sudden look of finality and accomplishment lighting up Tony’s face, he knew too.

As quick as someone could stand after 48 hours of barely any food and even less sleep, Tony hopped yo from his chair and cornered Bucky on the couch. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

As soon as those doe eyes and pretty smile we’re inches away, Bucky knew he had lost. He rolled his eyes, but set his book down beside him, dog earring the page and pretending that he couldn’t see Tony’s disappointment at him ‘ruining’ a book. “I don’t see how rollin’ around in the snow is fun at all.” He said, trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks.

Tony seemed to think for a moment before—“If you go on the roof with me and make a snowman, I’ll do something for you too. Fix your arm, make you soup, I don’t know, you can pick. But! You have to make a snowman with me.”

“Fine,” Bucky hissed after a moment, standing with a grunt of annoyance and stretching out the kinks in his neck from slumping over a book, “I’ll make your damn snowman.”

Tony’s face lit up, and to Bucky, that was enough to make up for dragging him out into the snow, but then Tony stepped even closer, tugging on Bucky’s crosses arms and yanking him into a hug, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ into his shoulder. Bucky swallowed down the confessions and exclamations on the tip of his tongue, simply pressing his nose into Tony’s hair with a soft sigh of ‘you’re welcome.’

After a long moment, Bucky was finally released from his prison of temptation and faced Tony’s smile again. “I need to go steal a hat from Clint’s room, but wait for me, okay?” Tony had said excitedly, bouncing on his heels. Without another word, Tony leaned forward of his feet and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s cheekbone before running off to presumably find a hat.

Suddenly the cold didn’t seem so frightening.

**Author's Note:**

> Not all Fictober prompts will be winteriron, but a lot probably will.
> 
> Have a ship you would like me to write a Fictober prompt about? Leave it in the comments!


End file.
